By the time Anne reached the room upstairs, she was shaking. After she closed the door, she strode into the center of the small room and took a deep breath.
Would he come?
She honestly had no idea. She would give him a quarter hour to decide before going back downstairs in defeat.
In the meantime, she surveyed the room, which she’d visited the day before. The flowers she’d brought were still on the table in front of the window, as was the bottle of madeira and the two glasses. There were two chairs at the table and a short chaise angled near the narrow hearth. The largest piece of furniture was the bed. She’d specifically asked for a room with a wide, comfortable bed. And she’d made sure the linens were of good quality and clean. They were, thankfully, both.
Anne removed her hat and gloves and set them on the nightstand next to one side of the bed. Should she take off her boots? What if he didn’t come? Perhaps she should wait.
She checked the timepiece she’d tucked into her coat pocket that morning. Barely five minutes.
Pleased that she’d at least stopped shaking, she went to the window and craned her neck to try to see down the alley to Paternoster Row. She could just make out a sliver of the pavement and street. The crowd had not lessened.
She loved it. There was an energy and boisterousness here that didn’t exist in Mayfair. She wondered if Rafe had grown up nearby and hoped he would one day tell her.
He owned a bookshop! And helped children in need. What else didn’t she know about him? She hated that there seemed to be so much, but of course there was. He’d lived much more than she had, and that would have been true even if he weren’t ten years older. His experience was much different, broader and, from what she’d learned today, harsher.
That was part of the darkness inside him too—along with his wife. A hollow pain spread through her chest when she thought of how much losing her had to have hurt him. He’d said he loved her very much. Perhaps he loved her still. And why wouldn’t he? Though she was gone, she was clearly not forgotten.
Anne bent her head to smell the roses on the table. A knock on the door startled her so that she dipped her nose into the petals. “Goodness!” she breathed, putting her hand on the back of one of the chairs to right herself.
He was here. She hurried across the room and stopped short of throwing open the door. “Rafe?” What if it wasn’t him?
“Open the door, Anne.”
She did so, and he stalked inside. She closed the door behind him.
“You didn’t even lock it.” He sounded cross. “Does it have a lock?”
“Yes.” She set it and faced him. “Better?”
“You should not have been up here without the door locked.”
“You’re an—” No, he wasn’t angry. He was befuddled as he’d been the other day when she’d visited him.
He is here.
She kept the smile that threatened at bay. This wasn’t victory—not yet. But it was a start. “I should have locked the door. I’m afraid I’m a bit…excited.”
He swept his hat off and wiped his hand over his brow. Muttering something, he went to the table and looked at the roses. “This is a very bad idea.”
“I like roses.” She knew he wasn’t talking about the roses. “I brought them yesterday so the room would smell nice.”
“You brought them…” He set his hat on the table and spun to face her. “You planned this quite thoroughly.” At her nod, he started toward her, moving slowly, like an animal on the prowl.
“A seduction, then?” he asked softly.
A shiver danced along her spine. “I was hoping so, but I’m afraid I’m not well versed in the matter.”
“You’re not well versed. So you are somewhat versed?” He stopped just in front of her. “Anne, are you a virgin?”
Her mouth went dry, and she couldn’t speak. So she nodded.
“And you shall remain one.”
Disappointment curled through her. “Then why did you come upstairs?”
“Because you gave me no choice. Was I to remain down there hoping you would eventually return? And what if something happened while you were up here?” His eyes glittered dangerously as he moved closer until they nearly touched. “Did you really think I was going to come up here and shag you?”
“I was hoping—”
“Yes, I know that. But hoping and knowing are not the same thing. I’ve told you repeatedly that I am not someone you should want. I am not a gentleman.”
“You are an earl, as it happens.”
“I wasn’t raised one, and the sooner you realize that and accept I will never be the man you want, the better.”
She stood on her toes and put her hands on his shoulders. “But you are the man I want. Right now. Why do we have to think of anything but this afternoon? We agreed we would spend this afternoon together, to regain the one we’d lost.”
His brows arched. “You thought we were going to have sex that afternoon?”
“No, and I was not sure we would today. As I said, I hoped.” She exhaled. “Will you at least kiss me once more before we go?”
He stared at her, then glanced toward the bed. When he looked back at her, the orange in his right eye seemed brighter than ever. “Why do you want me?”
“Because you’re kind, considerate, dashing, generous, and completely unlike anyone I’ve ever known. You treat me like an ordinary woman, not someone who suits your needs or your plans or a prize to be bartered or won.” She shook her head. “No, not an ordinary woman, but someone who is special to you. Someone you like and enjoy being with. Am I wrong?”
He breathed an epithet. “No.” He dipped his head and claimed her mouth, his lips molding possessively over hers. His arms came around her, pulling her flush against him. The thrill of his kiss and his body pressed to hers crashed through her, quickening her pulse and heating her blood.
She clasped his nape, her fingers digging into his thick hair. His tongue swept into her mouth, and she welcomed him, her body screaming for this and more.
His hands slipped down to her backside, and he lifted her, one hand moving to her right thigh and curling her leg around his waist. She did the same with the other, and he moved, carrying her—toward the bed, if she remembered the room correctly.
What was he doing? He said he didn’t want her. No, he hadn’t said that.
He set her on the bed but didn’t move away. His pelvis was still pressed into hers. She could feel the ridge of his sex against hers. Breaking the kiss, he lifted his head as he pushed her coat from her shoulders and set it on the end of the bed.
“I can’t give you anything beyond today, and you won’t ask me to.” He removed his coat and laid it at the head of the bed. “Understood?”
She nodded, her mind and body careening with disbelief and want.
He plucked at the buttons of her waistcoat, opening the garment, and he pulled the cravat from her neck, tossing it aside. Slipping his hand inside her shirt, he slowly traced his fingertips along her collarbone. The movement opened the shirt wider down the front. The V was quite deep, so much so that she’d pinned it closed over her breast. She reached between them and, removing the pin from the fabric, managed to stick it into the coat sitting to her right.